Henwen

The Sunken City: A Journey through Fallen London

Yall already know how in I am! And i'm loving the dichotomy between our two guys! Cant wait to see how they interact!

The Sunken City: A Journey through Fallen London

Name: Det Miles Hardy
Age: 35
Physical Description:
Miles has all the features of an attractive man, if that attractive man looked like a starving alleycat one dragged out of a storm drain. Thin and lanky, with the rangey build of somebody who's missed one too many meals a stiff wind looks like it could blow him over. He'd fight that wind to the last gust however, as what little meat he's got on his bones is lean, tough, wiry muscle.

His face could be considered attractive under a certain light- a dim one, with plenty of shadows to hide the ill set of his nose, left crooked after one to many brawls. Or the deep circles of exhaustion under his eyes, dark brown and full of cynicism- although one could maybe catch a hint of green shining there in the flick of his cigarette lighter.

He wears what should be a nice fitting, classy suit in dapper low toned greys- however that suit has seen more life than any suit reasonably should. It hangs on his frame, rumpled and frayed- cinched tight at the waist with a near worn out belt. His hair is black, and is as scraggly and unkempt as the rest of him, with a perpetual 5o'clock shadow on his jawline- too lazy to shave regularly, but still unwilling to go bearded.

All of this is carelessly hidden under his khaki trenchcoat and beat up fedora- they are easily the best looking part of his entire getup, and being under ten years old- the newest.

Personality:
Miles is as stubborn and bullheaded as they come, with little to no sense of self preservation. He becomes fixated on things and is prone to destructive habits. He's terribly inquisitive and impulsive and has a tendency to run off half-cocked with disastrous consequences. However, he's also fairly kind, on a good day- generous when he has anything of substance with which to share. He is a friend to all those down on their luck, because that's usually where he spends his most of his time.

Ethics/Beliefs:
Life has kicked him to the curb a time or two, but Miles aims to kick life right back, preferably in one of the softer-more vulnerable spots. He's not afraid to fight dirty. The way he sees things, you have to give as well as you get- and then some if you want to make anything of yourself in the world. Miles' has got a stubborn streak a 'mile' wide, and doesn't know when to let well enough alone or when to quit. When the going gets tough, the tough gets going- or the not so tough get their ass kicked, slink home to lick their wounds, and get them next time.

Recently however, life's been dishing out the hurt a lot more than he can take, and it's starting to take its toll. He's starting to think deep thoughts about life, those 'what does it all even mean, what's it even matter' thoughts. Ever the cynical hypocrite, he's hoping Lady Luck will smile on him once more, and give him something that makes it all worthwhile again.

Or at least bail him out just one more time.

Occupation/Talents:
Being a detective is one of the best and worst things to happen to Miles. It allows him to indulge his natural curiosity and his obsessive hounding for answers to the best of his ability. He'd be good at his job too if it weren't for the fact that it gets him into more trouble than out of it. That and he has a real problem with authority. It doesn't matter if the Powers that Be said to leave well enough alone, he's gonna chase his leads to the bitter end come Hell or highwater. He is in real danger of losing his job.

Gambling, could be considered another one of his 'talents' if you use the term loosely. Along with smoking it is his favorite vice, other than the fact that he only seems very good at loosing. From instinct alone he can always seem to find where money is flowing and the stakes are high- whether thats a high class casino or a back alley dive he'll find it without fail.

Heart's Desire:
In danger of losing his job, having gambled himself into bankruptcy for the third consecutive time, having been kicked to the curb by life, love, and even from the sanctity of his tiny flea ridden apartment home- Miles is getting tired of it all and right now, he'd really like to catch a break. Have lady luck return his calls for once. Or really, just for some Hope in a bleak world turned cruel... something to make it all worth while.

History:
Miles' history is full of gambling and bad decisions. Frankly the best decision he ever made was becoming a Detective, which keeps him on the right side of the law- usually. It's been pretty much all downhill from there. His employers are finding him to be more trouble than he's worth, and the threats towards sacking him are gaining teeth. After gambling away what little money he made for the third time in a row, his old flame Darla dumped him like yesterday's news. Quite literally, chucking his meager things onto the side of the curb and out of their tiny apartment. All attempts at reconciliation have been snubbed- and he's been living out of his office until now.

The Silver Dagger

It was near late morning once again as Veslemoy approached the walls of Temrin. She'd have made better time, but considering her kill she felt it would be best to set up a temporary camp at the first source of flowing water she came across- to better field dress her deer before the meat spoiled in the oppressive heat of midday. It had the added benefit of lightening her load as well, the offal and less desirable intestines shifted over into a leather sack while the more tender meats, the heart and liver, would remain inside. She'd ended up staying the night beside the stream she'd found, a bit farther upwind from where she'd gutted the deer, and eaten heartily.

She'd even taken the initiative to bathe. The streams freshwater shockingly cold, but it did well to wash the stench of death, blood and deer off of her skin. Town dwellers tended to be uptight about such things, and if she wanted to join with these 'Silver Daggers' she would want to make a good impression at the least- although showing up covered in blood might work in her favor, it was better to stay on the safe side of decorum for now.

Temrin rose up around her and, hefting her deer a bit uncomfortably, she realized she'd made an error in judgement to call it a town. To be fair, the Jorunn tribe did not frequently travel through the same town twice, so her information was assuredly dated... but this level of change was a bit shocking.

Temrin was not a town, but a growing city full of endless waves of people of all sorts. The guards at the front gates gave her hard looks, taking in her rough appearance and the sizeable young buck she carried with ease over her shoulders. Perhaps it was the stag mostly that caught their eye, she was not a large woman but she was strong- was it so unusual that she could carry it? They let her pass unharassed however, probably assuming her to be a hunter of some sort. They wouldn't be wrong.

The noise was near overwhelming, and the hussle and bussle of the market square quickly swept her away as she aimlessly wandered the streets trying not to gawk like a country rube. After finding herself crossing the same fountain for a third time did she finally shake herself from her daze. Rolling her eyes at herself, she did what any proper tracker would do in such a situation. She followed her nose.

Strong smells have a way of making their way through the environment, and some of the more familiar are impossible to miss. Case in point, she soon found herself at the storefront of a tanner's somewhere closer to the outskirts of town. The strong pungent odor best kept far from the regular crowd of merchants, but still close enough to be found conveniently.

The tanner was a little man, and most likely smelled just as badly as his shop, but his demeanor was pleasant enough and smiled brightly when he saw her. Or rather the deer she carried most likely, as he immediately began talking shop. Veslemoy haggled with him for a bit, her deer hide would need tanning eventually and here was as good a place as any and much preferable to doing it on her own- she didn't much care for tanning. She seemed to get a fair price from it as well, the little man was more than pleased at least- and was more than willing to give her directions to the Silver Dagger when she mentioned she was in town to see them.

"Oh aye, them's lot is just a bit of a ways away," The man chattered on as he waved in the general area of the Silver Dagger, "Upwind mind, of course. It's only sensible. Bit new though, now that the old one done got burnt up in a bit of a fuss awhile back. You'da thought it would be fancier and all, but methinks they just wanted the thing up and done already- no patience these days. Big banner though, you can't miss it."

"I thank you for your help then, Tanner," Veslemoy said as she resettled her burden, "I will return with the skin as promised. Just as soon as I get things settled over there, you understand."

"See that you do, lass." The man waved her farewell and she once more set out against the crowd.

The Silver Dagger was as he described it, rough and newly raised in comparison to the other buildings she'd walked past. What it looked like didn't really matter to her mind, though she was pleased to see the stable house and promised herself a nice look-see when she was done.

Finally at the door, she reminded herself of her manners- city folk knocked didn't they. Knocking was a bit out of her abilities at the moment though, so she settled herself with rapping the door sharply with her boot. Hopefully someone would answer and tell her where to leave her stag... it was heavy and her shoulders were getting sore from more than a day and a half of carrying the beast. If all else fails she'd skin it near the stables, but she'd much rather not- the scent of blood could make horses skittish.

The Silver Dagger

Name: Veslemoy Jorunn
Age: 25
Gender: Female

Description: 5'5", and all of it lean, whipcord muscle from living rough off of nature's bounty. Her skin is a dark tan from years in the sun and dusted with freckles that bring out the green in her hazel eyes. Her hair is a light brown, sunkissed into a golden copper color. Her clothing and armor are all handmade and well cared for and consists of a shirt and vest in natural colors, buckskin boots and trousers worn soft with a multitude of pockets, and a large heavy wolfskin cloak. She's armed with a taut and strong yew bow and a quiver of arrows slung low at her hip. She has her hair pulled up with an assortment of beads and feathers in her braids, as well as a set of carved talismans of animals that hang around her neck. The only things not readily made about her person is the set of daggers she keeps tucked on her belt. She smells of pine and wildness, and her eyes are as keen as a bird's and her reflexes just as swift.

Occupation: Wandering Woodsman Warrior, Worshipper of the Animal Gods

Intro Post:

where the wild things are

The early dawn was fast fading, the morning dew a slow swirling mist as it rose, wisping away in the tall grasses that hushed her tread. She moved as a wild thing would, the singing insects barely pausing in their songs as she passed them by. The day was young, but the children of nature were wide awake- the birds giving voice for all to hear, and the deer grazing peacefully in the meadowsweet.

She stilled and grew tense, arm drawn back to her cheek...

This was the time that she felt most at one with the Divine Animals of the world, when it was still yet hushed yet waking. Her father had taught her well, to understand the beast as well as know them, and their place among them. For what is man but a thinking animal, a feeling beast just like any other- and to deny that was to deny an inherent part of self and run the danger of falling into arrogance and willful destruction.

She'd learned well, and although the man was as hard and unyielding as stone he was not unkind. Blistered hands were tenderly wrapped after he'd gruellingly instructed her in her bow work- again and again, until she could sight a bird a second, and drop it in three. Holding her gently as she wept at killing her first hare, praising her on the clean quick kill...

The deer looked up, sensing the threat of a predator nearby as all prey animals do- a moment too late. Her loosed arrow did not even whistle as it flew fast and sure through the air. The deer leapt and fell, the head and shaft buried deep into its heart- its cry starting the meadow larks into flight before falling silent at last.

Drawing near she inspected her kill, clean and quick as was good as always. She stroked the soft fur of it's neck, murmuring quiet encouragement and praise as the young buck's eyes finally dimmed. A good kill.

They weren't always, but her ill shots were a thing left in the past with her young childhood. She could not bare to see an animal suffer unduly. Like one would at the hands of the Behemoth.

She could still remember when she first encountered it's evil work...
The Jorunn clan had traveled through towns and villages before, their static strangeness and bustling herds of people intimidated her and caused her to shy even as the chaotic hurry fascinated her young mind. By the time they would leave she'd be exhausted and longing for the home-like comforts of dense woodlands and forests ways... but this time her parents found her dragging her feet and they soon realized what had happened.They had a straggler following them as they left the village.

The mongrel was thin and scrappy, obviously ill treated and people-shy. But it had gathered it's courage to take scraps of bread and meat from the tiny girl with kind eyes and whom smelled like the forest, and she soon found it dared come close enough to touch and the little mutt leaned into her touch as if starved for affection and not just for food. Busy with trading, her parents did not realise she'd found herself a friend...

She was allowed to keep the ugly thing, and she loved him as she would a sibling. She called him Tollak, and for near six months they were inseparable- always playing, or hiking, or running. Tollak, was well named for he was as playful as she was and they were always getting underfoot or in some sort of mischief.

But slowly it became clear something was not right with the little scrappy Tollak. His playful ways lessened abruptly, his appetite ebbed and waned, frequently becoming ill and sicking up whatever he had eaten. Her father had looked on with growing sorrow and a knowing eye...

Eventually Tollak was so weak he could no longer lift his head and the poor dog refused to eat. Crying bitterly as she held the frail wheezing body of her dearest friend, she asked her father why...

"It is the Behemoth," he'd answered gravely, his voice gentle at her tears, "The Behemoth which invites destruction, which takes and does not give back, and it has brought its parasites to consume Tollak and take him from us.

"Tollak is very ill, my Veslemoy, and he will not be getting better." He continued, and despite the onslaught of fresh tears, pressed a sharp dagger into her weak hand, "It is best to give him mercy, and end his suffering..."

She had done so that night, and buried Tollak under a dogwood tree where her friend could rest and feed the earth with his life's energy. She'd learned her lesson well that night, that the Behemoth was cruel, unrelenting and cared not whom it inflicted with it's poison. And now that she was old enough to venture on her own, to protect the forest ways as the Jorunn clan always had, she would make good of her vow, and she would end the blight of the Behemoth wherever she may find it, and slay its spawn wherever it may be found.

The deer was dead, and had not suffered and so she went about her work without a heavy heart. The day was brightening now, the mist long gone and the sun making its eternal trudge across the sky. The warming air stirred a breeze, and she lifted her head a moment to cool her brow when a stirring sound in the meadowsweet caught her attention.

There tangled amongst the tall stems and tender leaves was a bit of parchment- crumpled and ragged as if it had been thrown away or caught by the wind for some time. Squinting, she pondered the letters and slowly read its message sounding them out as she did so...

The Garden District, there was one of those in the town of Temrin- which was only a little over a day's walk way. And the creatures that were of the 'supernatural persuasion' were often the kind that would affiliate themselves with the Behemoth... although to go and investigate the information of this castaway parchment would take her away from the forest pathways that she had set out to patrol...

Kneeling in the damp earth as the last of the mist faded away, she considered her options when the hoarse cry of a bird drew her attention upwards. A turkey vulture circled overhead, drawn by the scent of her fresh kill- the young stag whose blood lay still cooling at her feet.

An omen, she was assured and standing she hefted her kill up and slung it over her shoulders. The deer's fur catching in the fur of her wolf-pelt cape, her feathered braid jostled by the action and tickling her cheek, she steadied herself before setting out at a relaxed yet ground eating lope.

The forest paths may not be wholly free of those who would do the pilgrims who take them harm, but the Behemoth did not care about paths or people and would spread wherever it will. And if her vow took her off the beaten path then so be it.

She would have many miles to go if she wanted to make it to Temrin before nightfall.

The Sunken City: A Journey through Fallen London

I'm gonna subscribe to this sucker too and make it easier for me to find. Here's your Bump Escha!

Also check out my awesome character! I'm super excited and I can't wait to play him. Tell me what you think!

The Destitute Detective

Name: Det Miles Hardy
Age: 35
Physical Description:
Miles has all the features of an attractive man, if that attractive man looked like a starving alleycat one dragged out of a stormdrain. Thin and lankey, with the rangey build of somebody who's missed one too many meals a stiff wind looks like it could blow him over. He'd fight that wind to the last gust however, as what little meat he's got on his bones is lean, tough, wirey muscle.

His face could be considered attractive under a certain light- a dim one, with plenty of shadows to hide the ill set of his nose, left crooked after one to many brawls. Or the deep circles of exaustion under his eyes, dark brown and full of cinicism- although one could maybe catch a hint of green shining there in the flick of his cigarette lighter.

He wears what should be a nice fitting, classy suit in dapper low toned greys- however that suit has seen more life than any suit reasonaly should. It hangs on his frame, rumpled and fraid- sinched tight at the waist with a near worn out belt. His hair is black, and is as scraggly and unkempt as the rest of him, with a perpetual 5o'clock shadow on his jawline- too lazy to shave regularly, but still unwilling to go bearded.

All of this is carelessly hidden under his khaki trenchcoat and beat up fedora- they are easily the best looking part of his entire getup, and being under ten years old- the newest.

Personality:
Miles is as stubborn and bullheaded as they come, with little to no sence of self preservation. He becomes fixated on things and is prone to distructive habits. He's terribly inquisitive and impulsive and has a tendency to run off half-cocked with disasterous consiquences. However, he's also fairly kind, on a good day- generous when he has anything of substance with which to share. He is a friend to all those down on their luck, because that's usually where he spends his most of his time.

Ethics/Beliefs:
Life has kicked him to the curb a time or two, but Miles aims to kick life right back, preferably in one of the softer-more vulnerable spots. He's not afraid to fight dirty. The way he sees things, you have to give as well as you get- and then some if you want to make anything of yourself in the world. Miles' has got a stubborn streak a 'mile' wide, and doesn't know when to let well enough alone or when to quit. When the going gets tough, the tough gets going- or the not so tough get's their ass kicked, slink home to lick their wounds, and get them next time.

Recently however, life's been dishing out the hurt a lot more than he can take, and it's starting to take its toll. He's starting to think deep thoughts about life, those 'what does it all even mean, what's it even matter' thoughts. Ever the cynicall hypocrit, he's hoping Lady Luck will smile on him once more, and give him something that makes it all worthwhile again.

Or at least bail him out just one more time.

Occupation/Talents:
Being a detective is one of the best and worst things to happen to Miles. It allows him to indulge his natural curiosity and his obsessive hounding for answers to the best of his ability. He'd be good at his job too if it wern't for the fact that it gets him into more trouble than out of it. That and he has a real problem with authority. It doesn't matter if the Powers that Be said to leave well enough alone, he's gonna chase his leads to the bitter end come Hell or highwater. He is in real danger of losing his job.

Gambling, could be considered another one of his 'talents' if you use the term loosely. Allong with smoking it is his favorite vice, other than the fact that he only seems very good at loosing. From instict alone he can always seem to find where money is flowing and the stakes are high- whether thats a highclass casino or a backalley dive he'll find it without fail.

Heart's Desire:
In danger of loosing his job, having gambled himself into bankruptsy for the third consecutive time, having been kicked to the curb by life, love, and even from the santity of his tiny flea ridden apartment home- Miles is getting tired of it all and right now, he'd really like to catch a break. Have lady luck return his calls for once. Or really, just for some Hope in a bleak world turned cruel... something to make it all worth while.

History:
Miles' history is full of gambling and bad decisions. Frankly the best decision he ever made was becoming a Detective, which keeps him on the right side of the law- usually. It's been pretty much all down hill from there. His employers are finding him to be more trouble than he's worth, and the threats torwards sacking him are gaining teeth. After gambling away what little money he made for the third time in a row, his old flame Darla dumped him like yesterday's news. Quite litterally, chucking his meager things onto the side of the curb and out of their tiny appartment. All attempts at reconsilliation have been snubbed- and he's been living out of his office until now.

N/A

Hi there Aline! We met in chat!

If ever your looking for a game I'm all for it! Just PM me and shoot me ALINE!

Hahahahahaa! I've been working on that pun ALL NIGHT!

Welcome to the Guild!

The Sunken City: A Journey through Fallen London

I joined three days ago and the one thing i was already driving people crazy about asking for was a NOIR-esque Fantasy-ish game. And Lo and Behold who should drop out of the sky but EXACTLY What I was WAITING FOR!

Yes I am interested. I am very much interested. I'm more intrested that anybody would probably want!

I am down for this! Sign me up!

Shiney and New!

Hi there everyone i'm Henwen and I'm here to stay. People of chat made me feel really welcome with the waggon, so i'm looking forward to calling this my new RP home.

I'm fairly well versed in Play By Post rolepays. I tend to not really play in the now but prefer either the farout future or the farout past. Fantasy, Scifi, Steampunk you name it i'm game to play. I'll go as recent as speakeasies and Noir-esk style past, because what's not to like there. I love fantasy, although i'm totally over both vampires and werewolves. They've been done to death guys really, and there are a lot more creatures to choose from honestly. Gimme pirates, rebles, Space pirates and Space rebles.

I love Dnd and am sad to admit i've never played a full campain in my life. Life tends to get in the way and i've yet to find a group that can stick it through. Doesn't stop me from trying tho.

I've got plans and plots, and characters out my ears. I'm dying to get back into the rp fray. The creative gears may be a little rusty but they will turn and I'm always up for world building, story crafting, and character drama with angst ala'mode.

From all i've seen so far, i'm really gonna groove with this community! I can't wait to get started so shoot me a line or two!